


The Wolf of the Mountain

by Lizardbeth



Category: Jeremiah (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Markus keeps a lot of secrets in Thunder Mountain, and Jeremiah accidentally discovers one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf of the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elynross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynross/gifts).



> Dear elyn, I looked at your prompts to see if I could write something for you to thank you for all your hard work this YT season, and then I remembered a prompt from one of my "bingo" cards (werewolf without his pack) and somehow, those two things combined in my brain. In a flurry of Yuletide excitement... this emerged. I apologize for the crack and any errors my last-minute crazy has left uncaught, but hopefully it's fun. :)
> 
> For everyone else, yes, it's an AU.

Jeremiah remembers what it was like when those giant doors first opened for the first time. A whole new world was hiding behind there, of electric lights that he can barely remember from childhood, and plenty of food and water. Though he would never say it aloud, it feels like a fairy tale come true.

And yet the fairy tale doesn't stop, because he soon realizes that Thunder Mountain holds secrets, and the uncrowned king of the mountain holds most of them. Markus is quiet and seems open, but he's like a garden that looks real until you find out it's a painting over a brick wall.

It's outside the mountain, ironically, when the wall starts to crack. When Jeremiah gets Markus to come outside to fight the skinheads, and Markus is tossing firebombs, the light hits his eyes and those dark eyes are inexplicably yellow.

Jeremiah flinches back, nearly falling from the roof. "What the hell?"

Markus turns to frown at him and his eyes are normal. "What?"

"Your eyes -- what the hell was that?"

Markus frown deepens. "What are you talking about?"

He looks honestly perplexed, and Jeremiah shakes his head, confused. He thought he'd seen it, but... maybe... he didn't. Maybe it was just a trick of the sunlight.

"Nothing. Nevermind."

He starts to figure out that it wasn't 'nothing' after all, during Theo's visit, when the whole thing seems like a challenge: Theo challenges everyone and Andrew and Thomas challenge Markus. That challenge ends when Markus -- all six-feet of mild-mannered studiousness of him -- throws Thomas into the fucking wall as if he weighs nothing.

And his eyes are yellow again.

This time Jeremiah's not stupid enough to ask Markus. He corners Erin instead. "What the hell is Markus?"

"What? I don't know what you mean?"

She's not nearly as good a liar as Markus is. Jeremiah levels a stare at her. "Erin. His fucking eyes were yellow. He threw Thomas into the wall. Is he even human?"

Her eyes glance away, desperately looking for someone to help her out of this. But no one is around to rescue her. "He -- um, it's not my secret to tell, Jeremiah."

"Spill."

She says it all very fast, almost as one word: "No, he's not, not entirely, not anymore, maybe not ever, I don't know, but not since the Big Death. He's a -- a werewolf."

Jeremiah stares. "What?"

"A werewolf. He can change into a wolf," she answered. "I've seen it. It's amazing. And kind of scary."

"No shit?"

She draws herself up. "You asked."

Later, Jeremiah enters Markus' office and shuts the door behind him. "Okay. So."

Markus glances up from the table where he's reading papers. "Something I can do for you?"

Jeremiah makes sure the table's between them and doesn't sit down yet, just in case he takes offense to Jeremiah finding out the secret. "Werewolf? Seriously?"

Markus is still, and there's a moment Jeremiah's stomach clenches up when Markus' eyes meet his. The eyes stay dark but there's a sharpness to his gaze that seems dangerous. But then Markus' lips tilt upward in a faint smile and Jeremiah can relax again. "Erin told you."

"Yeah. I saw what you did to Thomas -- it was impressive. And real fucking strange. So I made her tell me. You change into a wolf? Really? Because super-strength is not the same thing as being a freaking creature of weird fictional shit."

"You want to see?" Markus asks, and he's got a very ... wolfish smile on his lips, as if daring Jeremiah to call his bluff.

"You don't have to wait for a full moon, or whatever?"

Markus chuckles. "No. I can do it whenever I want. It's not easy, but I can. During the full moon I _have_ to change. That's why I disappear."

Jeremiah sinks slowly into the seat across from Markus as he realizes this is real. "Damn. You're not kidding me."

"No. And I'm a vampire, too."

Jeremiah stares at him. Surely it can't be true, it can't -- then Markus smiles and Jeremiah realizes he's being had. "Ha-ha, very funny. Anybody ever tell you, you're a dick?"

Markus looks entirely too satisfied with his little joke. "You should've seen your face."

"Well, man, it's not every day I hear that someone's a fucking werewolf," Jeremiah protests. "So how did it happen?"

Markus shrugs and glances at his papers. "It's not like in the stories -- we're born this way. My parents were, too. When I was a kid, we lived near a few others, in New Mexico. But they're all dead now."

"You're the only one?" Jeremiah asks, realizing that Markus might have lost more than his parents in the Big Death-- he might have lost his entire .... kind. His race.

Markus takes a moment to answer and then he shrugs a little, as if to discount its importance. "As far as I know. I've made this place my family. My pack. It was hard at first to be alone, but it's not like I was the only one who was alone, you know? Everybody else lost their family, too."

He sounds casual, but Jeremiah knows how well Markus lies by now, and there's a glimmer there in the dark eyes as he turns them toward the window that suggests Markus feels that loneliness a little more deeply than he's willing to say.

"But... didn't your father go to your mom when she was dying?" Jeremiah asks, confused. "How could he do that if he knew he was leaving you not just on your own, but the only one of your kind?"

"She was his mate, Jeremiah. He couldn't let her die alone."

"Oh. That sucks, man."

"Yeah." Markus picks up his papers and straightens them unnecessarily. "So, now you know. I'll ask you to keep it to yourself. Only the Council and the first residents know about me; I'd rather keep it that way."

"Sure." Jeremiah thinks for a moment and asks, "Can I see? I mean, I don't want to treat you like some kind of circus freak, but at the same time, I... want to see."

"All right. Meet me in the garage at midnight. We'll go outside and take a walk."

"Cool. You better not be putting me on."

Markus smiles briefly, but it's not especially amused. "No. It's real."

 

* * *

They're about half a mile from the entrance to the Mountain, and off the road in the woods when Markus finally stops and decides they're far enough.

He starts to strip off his clothes. He's neat and not self-conscious, folding his clothes onto a stump until he's standing there, all pale skin in the moonlight. He's more muscled than Jeremiah thought, and he can't help but drop his eyes down the lean waist and narrow hips. For a supposed werewolf he's hardly hairy at all, which sort of amuses Jeremiah.

But Markus shuts his eyes and clenches his fists and Jeremiah realizes the show's about to start.

Markus looks in agony briefly - fists and jaw clenched, neck cording, as if he's under terrible strain and then he folds like he was stabbed in the gut. He lets out an agonized-sounding groan.

Then it all happens so fast, Jeremiah can't really see it -- there's a blurring, a shadow falling, and Markus crying out through his teeth.

And then...

"HOLY SHIT!"

Jeremiah stumbles back and falls on his ass, still staring.

Jeremiah's seen wolves before. They're the size of dogs, but the wolf facing him is no ordinary wolf. It's all of Markus' weight and bone shifted into wolf form, with paws the size of a bear's and canines like a tiger. He looks huge - three feet at the shoulder, easy -- and the fur is dark brown with a white belly and chest.

He pads closer as Jeremiah freezes, unsure if Markus knows who he is and not to eat him. But he only sniffs at Jeremiah, pokes him with his nose, and when he looks up into Jeremiah's face, he has the same yellow eyes Jeremiah saw before. They're not exactly Markus' eyes, but they're also far more human than a wolf's should be.

Jeremiah lifts a hand and very slowly reaches out to Markus chest. His fur is thick and surprisingly soft when Jeremiah's fingers dig into it and reflexively scratch him. Markus cocks his head a little and then lifts his jaw, as if to say, "here please" so Jeremiah scratches him under the chin as if he were a big dog.

Then Markus darts forward and licks his face once.

"Son of a bitch!" Jeremiah exclaims, scrubbing at his face.

When he looks up, the fucker is smiling at him. Somehow even with the big teeth and the lolling tongue, it's still Markus' smile. Then his ears flick, hearing something in the forest, and he whirls, loping into the night.

Jeremiah stares after him, feeling his heart slow down finally as he catches his breath. "God damn," he whispers. He's seen plenty of crazy shit in his life, but nothing like that. Nothing even close.

He gets back to his feet and brushes the leaves off his pants to head back inside.

In the morning, Markus is with Erin in his office and it's like nothing happened. "Morning," he greets Jeremiah.

Jeremiah takes the open chair at the round table and flops into it. "I... You look normal now," he says with a vague gesture at Markus, who's wearing clothes like a normal person. "So, what about silver bullets, is that real?"

Markus answers dryly, "Getting shot in the head kills anything, if you're looking for tips."

"No! Of course -- I wouldn't -- " he protests, then belatedly realizes Markus is kidding. He glares. "And fuck you, too. I was concerned."

Markus lifts a hand in quasi-apology and explains, "It's an allergy. The purer the silver content, the more painful its touch. I'm pretty sure getting any of it inside my body, by bullet or eating it, would kill me."

"Oh." That silences Jeremiah for a moment, as he thinks about silver jewelry and knives and forks, which are now all but valueless and so they're everywhere. "We should probably keep that a secret."

Erin rolls her eyes at him. "You think? Yes, we should." She doesn't approve of him knowing the secret, Jeremiah realizes, but it's done and he's certainly going to keep it. Not that most kids of the Big Death world probably give a damn, and more than a few would think it's cool -- but still, it's probably best not reveal a sneaky way to kill the Mountain's head honcho.

"If we can return to business?" Markus prompts impatiently.

Jeremiah lets him change the subject, and wonders if anything will actually change now that he knows the truth.

* * *

It's a month later. Jeremiah longs for a shower but he decides he better report first - the fucking Burners are moving into Wyoming and that's farther than anyone's seen them anywhere.

It's after midnight and the door to Markus' office is closed. Markus is probably in bed, but Jeremiah knocks once and opens it to check if he's there. The only light is coming through the windows from the dimmed lights of the commissary, so it seems deserted. But there's a shadowy figure at the table.

"Go away," Markus says without looking to see who it is. He's got a bottle in his hand, and a second on the table. He's only wearing pants, and it's startling to see Markus in his office all bare-chested and pale.

"Hey, Kurdy and I are back. We've got news --"

And Markus repeats, low and cold, "Get out."

Jeremiah would, except there are layers of _wrong_ in this: Markus drinking alone in the dark, obviously intent on drinking himself unconscious. Something awful must have happened while he and Kurdy were away that no one's seen fit to tell him yet. "Markus? What happened?"

"What part of 'get out' is unclear?"

Jeremiah closes the door behind him and goes closer. In the light coming through the windows from the commissary, Markus' eyes are yellow. Which is when Jeremiah realizes Markus is half-naked because he either wants to shift or already did.

"What's wrong? Why are you sitting here getting drunk?"

"I have to." Markus hangs his head and clasps the bottle in both hands. He whispers. "When it gets bad."

Straddling the nearest chair, Jeremiah regards him worriedly. "When what gets bad?"

Markus doesn't answer for a long time. Jeremiah waits him out, and Markus gives in eventually, answering, "I... go out in the wood and I call and call and there's no answer. Then I come back and I have to drink until it stops hurting," he murmurs and gulps down some from the bottle. He chuckles bitterly, wiping his mouth. "God, I hate amaretto."

Jeremiah gets it. It's what he thought -- Markus is more affected by being the only one of his kind than he'd let on.

"Is there... something I can do, Markus?"

Yellow eyes cut to his - but they're not angry or dangerous, they're anguished - and then away. "No. Just let me get drunk. Tomorrow I'll be okay."

"You sure?" Jeremiah asks. For a moment there was a longing in those eyes, as if Jeremiah could do something. He moves closer and puts his hand on Markus' forearm. Markus shivers and pulls away.

"Don't."

"Markus--"

"I can't play games right now, Jeremiah," he warns. "Leave me alone."

"But would it help? Because I don't mind --"

Markus shoves his chair back so hard it falls over. "Just stop! I don't want a pity fuck just because you feel sorry for me. Go away."

He collapses on the couch, amaretto bottle still in his hand.

Jeremiah stares, and blinks. "Whoa. Where'd you get--" Because he didn't intend to offer a pity fuck-- maybe a hug, maybe to stay with him, maybe get drunk together... But -- damn. Is that what Markus really wants? Have those words slipped out unguarded and true, even though he denies it? Would sex help him feel less alone?

He remembers Markus stripping off his clothes and the way he stood in the moonlight, his skin almost bluish. Then he glances at Markus sitting there, at the unexpected muscles of his shoulders, the long lean line of his body, and the way his pants hang on his hips. He wonders if that skin is as smooth as it looks. And Jeremiah licks his lips as they go dry.

Markus' head jerks up and he stares at Jeremiah. And Jeremiah realizes that strength is not the only super-human ability Markus has.

"What?" Jeremiah asks softly. "Do the yellow eyes mean you can smell it? Or can you hear my heart beating faster?"

"Both," Markus answers, hoarsely, still staring.

"That's cool. So now you know it's true. It's not a pity fuck, okay? Or I guess it is, sort of, because it's not right that you're suffering like this, but it's not like I don't want it."

Markus eyes drop, and his shoulders slump. "You don't even like me."

Jeremiah stands up to go to him, smiling. "Okay, sometimes you're a dick. But there's something about you -- maybe it's the werewolf thing. Maybe it's because you pull people into your orbit and I can't help it. It beats the hell out of me, but I do like you. And right now, I want to kiss you until you stop looking like you're gonna blow your brains out."

"I'm not--" Markus jerks his head up to protest, but his voice dries up when he finds Jeremiah leaning down. Jeremiah plucks the bottle from him and sets it on the nearest chair.

"I think it's time to stop talking," Jeremiah advises and joins his mouth to Markus'.

At first Markus is still, as if shocked, and then he surges upward, and his hand curls around Jeremiah's neck. His mouth opens and he pulls Jeremiah into him tighter. Jeremiah's hands go to his shoulders -- his skin is too warm, as if his blood's boiling inside him, but it's smooth and taut over his muscle.

Tongues touch, and Markus groans into his mouth. Jeremiah tastes the amaretto and goes deeper, shuddering as his tongue feels teeth that are longer and pointier than they should be.

Hands pull at his clothes, and Jeremiah shrugs out of his sweater to dump it on the floor. "Sorry," he mutters, "should've showered first."

"You smell like you." Markus pulls him close again, his hands clutching Jeremiah's torso. Then suddenly he yanks with startling strength and Jeremiah finds himself on his back, on the couch. Markus is crouched over him, hips grinding down into Jeremiah's as his mouth sucks out Jeremiah's air.

Jeremiah isn't used to being the one who can't move, but as his fingers grab at Markus' skin and into his hair, he can't get enough either.

And holy hell, Markus is making a deep noise in his throat, like he's growling.

Then, abruptly, when Jeremiah is starting to think that he's got to take off his pants or go crazy, Markus freezes and he yanks himself backward. He falls to his knees, chest heaving for breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't. God, what am I thinking? I can't do this..."

Blinking the haze from his eyes, Jeremiah sits upright to frown at Markus. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I can't," Markus repeats helplessly and won't look at him. "I can hurt you. If I forget myself, I might hurt you."

"Christ, Markus. Stop thinking so much --" Jeremiah starts but stops when Markus raises his left hand and Jeremiah sees that his fingernails are now an inch long and sharp. They're claws. "Fuck."

Markus shuts his eyes and breathes and the claws retract back into his hands. "I can't," he sounds miserable. "I want to -- God, I want to but it's been so long and if I lose it --"

"Markus," Jeremiah interrupts forcefully. "Get your ass up here."

"But I don't trust myself --"

Jeremiah grabs his wrists and pulls him back up across his body. Markus is reluctant but doesn't pull away. Jeremiah looks into those half-feral and yet still-so-human golden eyes and declares quietly, "I trust you."

His kiss is less frantic, but somehow more intense, and when they move together it's slower, but builds higher. He knows Markus is being careful; he can feel Markus' fingers stay blunt nails when they reach between his legs and caress him hard and aching.

He blurts something stupid and needy, wanting more, and when he feels Markus' erection against his, he arches his back and lets out a gasp. "Yes, oh yes, please..."

Markus is on him, body against body, all skin and sweat rubbing against him. "I -- I just want --" Markus' breath is hot against his neck, and there's teeth when he sucks at Jeremiah's skin. His rhythm gets faster and harder, and then breaks on a whine as he comes between them, jerking helplessly against Jeremiah's body. He slows, taking deeper breaths to ease himself down, and kisses Jeremiah's lips again. Then he raises his head and smirks down at Jeremiah, shifting his hips deliberately to tease him. "You want some help with that?"

"Fuck, yeah."

He slides a hand down Jeremiah's flank and hip, between them to pump Jeremiah's erection. He's not gentle or hesitant, which Jeremiah wouldn't have expected, except he's too busy with the seething pressure rising beneath that touch.

Then his eyes roll back and he grabs at Markus' forearms as fire jolts through him.

Markus rests on top of him, though most of his weight still on his legs to either side of Jeremiah's hips. "Thank you," Markus murmurs into his ear and kissed his neck and shoulder. But when he starts to pull away, Jeremiah reaches around him, to keep him there.

"Stay."

Markus chuckles softly and lifts his head. His eyes are his usual dark brown again, and his face seems more relaxed. "'Stay'?" he repeats with a lifted brow. "Am I your dog?"

But since Markus isn't really offended or trying to move away, Jeremiah rubs a hand along the bumps of his spine. "My wolf," he answers.

"My human," Markus retorts. He stays there, in full body contact with Jeremiah, as if absorbing his warmth or his presence, or maybe even his scent. But he seems content.

And even though Jeremiah's back is starting to ache, they're both sticky and his pants are down at his feet, Jeremiah feels the same. He belongs.

 _the end._


End file.
